


Wings

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [88]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Domestic, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy being the only guy in your family with a reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as _A Raising in the Sun_, _Necessary Evils_, et. al. (See the [Barbverse Timeline](http://sleepingjaguars.com/buffy/viewpage.php?page=timeline) for specifics.) It contains spoilers for previous works in the series.

Dad stands before the bathroom sink, shirtless and shower-ruffled, narrow-eying the nothingness in the mirror while he shaves. There's a thread (or two, or three) of grey in Dad's sandy curls, and the lines around his eyes are deeper than they are in the pictures on the living room wall, but his torso is still all lean sleek muscle, his jaw still as sharp as the razor he wields.

Bill stands on his right side, I cling to his left, on tip-toe, just barely tall enough to nose the counter. Bill glances up, his dark heavy brows knotted over grey eyes as he mimics the careful application of the shaving cream, the sure strokes of the razor, the vigilant observation of his own non-existent reflection. There's not even the faintest shadow of down on his upper lip yet, and his shoulders are still boy-narrow, but he's immeasurably ancient to me, old enough to be allowed to play with razors. I can dimly imagine being as old as Bill; I can't imagine being as old as Dad.

Mom sweeps in, intent on some mysterious feminine errand. "Alex, honey, you want to see?" She picks me up with effortless strength (I've seen her pick up Dad just as easily) and holds me up in front of the mirror. My reflection stares back at me, round-faced and snub-nosed, and I burst into tears. Connie comes rushing in to see what's wrong, and it's not until she and Mom point out their own glassy shadows that I'm comforted.

Mom hands me over to Dad, laughing, and in the mirror, I spread my arms and fly.

END


End file.
